


Operation Morning Exercise

by dgdreamer



Series: The End is the Beginning [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: ...or Can He?, Coffee is life, F/M, Flirting, Humor, Innuendo, Steve Rogers Can't Talk to Women, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 18:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgdreamer/pseuds/dgdreamer
Summary: The problem with Steve Rogers is not that he can't talk to women. He talks to women every day...Natasha, Pepper, Maria, and Lauren. They're women, and he does just fine. It's when they show an interest in him that's not purely platonic that the stammering and blushing starts. Lauren is determined to help him work through his problem, but she doesn't expect it to happen before her morning coffee.“Any time you’d like to go for a morning run with Buck and me, you’re welcome, ma’am.” Damn! Did that man have to sound like sunshine and apple pie at this ungodly hour. Lauren stifled that thought, which was surprising, but the one that spilled from her mouth seemed to have bypassed the former and leapfrogged her cognitive brain entirely.“I can think of better ways to get all hot and sweaty in the mornin’, Cap.”





	Operation Morning Exercise

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for showing some interest in this universe that plays out in my head every day. Perhaps one day soon I will be able to fill that space with something else, but for now, enjoy a bit of Steve and Lauren entertainment. There will be more to come. So far I have about 80,000 words complete in this universe, and I'm still writing. A Christmas fic will appear soon... and then there will be some fluff and smut at some point [I'm still working myself into that]. 
> 
> If you like it, please leave kudos and comments. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

The world can be divided into two basic groups: morning people and not morning people. The former can range anywhere from those who rise with the sun, fully functional as soon as they reach consciousness to those who need just a few minutes to orient themselves in the land of the living before their cognitive functions start rolling. Anyone who has ever met a not morning person knows the signs of their existence and is aware of either the futility or the danger of trying establish contact before that magic hour when said person is ready to interact with his or her environment.

To say that Lauren was a “not morning” person may have been an understatement. Left to her own, no day would begin before 10 am and, even then, not until copious amounts of coffee had been consumed. Oh, she could force herself to function earlier when the job demanded it, but that was largely due to adrenaline and, again, coffee. It might have been good that her job didn’t require her to think about how she communicated information, just that she be able to acquire, process, and disseminate it quickly. When there was a mission involved, she didn’t have to be nice, she just needed to be competent. In short, it could be said that her natural state was firmly a NOT morning person.

Of the people on Lauren’s new team, only two knew her well enough to realize that she had only one point in her day where her brain did not completely connect all her mental processes. That point was the few minutes between waking and her first cup of coffee. She had been careful to appear friendly and professional since coming to live in the Tower, learning the team dynamics and doing her best to fit into the environment this mismatched group had created around themselves. Early morning calls to assemble found her hastily making a cup of instant coffee in the microwave of her apartment while she pulled on her uniform, desperate for that initial kick of caffeine to jump start her faculties. If there was no time for the microwave, she satisfied the need by taking a spoonful of the instant grounds directly into her mouth as she flew out the door (Hey! Don’t judge! It was gross but necessary. Starving people eat bugs after all!) Only Natasha and Clint knew how positively unfriendly and unfocused she could be before that first sip of bean juice, the filter so thin as to be non-existent so that whatever popped into her head was likely to spill through her lips before she realized what was happening and could call it back.

In her efforts to maintain the illusion that she was as unflappable and consistent as Coulson, timing was everything. Of course, at some point it was going to catch up with her, making it inevitable that everyone would get the morning Lauren experience.For most “not morning” people, routines are an important part of bringing them into the land of the living. Within the first week of moving in, Lauren established a pattern that brought her out of her rooms and to the common room kitchen for coffee and a light breakfast when she was least likely to see anyone who would expect communication. She would then shuffle back to the quiet of her apartment where she would spend another hour allowing caffeine, hot water, and solitude to coax her into full functionality.

The slant of the sun through the window of her living room should have given Lauren some clue that her timing was a bit off as she padded thoughtlessly out the door toward her destination…the nectar of the gods that was the coffee to be found in the common kitchen. In spite of all of his many faults…never let it be said that Tony Stark didn’t care about something, that coffee machine made the best damn cup of coffee in the Nine Realms. Probably because the half of his blood that wasn’t scotch was pure coffee.  

Lauren’s second clue about her timing should have been the presence of the two people seated at the kitchen island. Somewhere in her mind, she registered that Clint’s face was buried in his own gigantic mug of coffee while Natasha’s tea steeped near her bowl of fruit and yogurt. She usually passed them in the hallway, them entering the kitchen as she was just returning to her rooms. She ignored their questioning looks, moving steadily toward that giver of life… coffee. She had almost reached it when Natasha’s voice cut into her consciousness.

“You. Me. Gym. 1400 hours. Eat a light lunch.” She knew her well enough to keep the communication brief and to not expect a reply. Lauren merely grunted and hoped that Clint was smart enough to mind his own cup and not try to chime in. He was, but just as she was reaching for her mug, filled to the brim with her morning mission goal, she heard more footsteps coming into the room.

“Any time you’d like to go for a morning run with Buck and me, you’re welcome, ma’am.” Damn! Did that man have to sound like sunshine and apple pie at this ungodly hour. Lauren stifled that thought, which was surprising, but the one that spilled from her mouth seemed to have bypassed the former and leapfrogged her cognitive brain entirely.

“I can think of better ways to get all hot and sweaty in the mornin’, Cap.” There was no inflection, no sass, just a flat statement of fact.

The room seemed to freeze, none of them knowing just how to react. Lauren was acutely aware, without really seeing that Steve and Bucky were standing at the end of the island nearest the door to the hallway and elevator, Bucky just behind Steve’s left shoulder. She also realized as she took a sip of coffee that Bruce and Tony had just entered from the other side of the room from the common seating area, apparently just up from the lab. The moment hung there in the surreal way that awkward moments do, time standing still while you exist outside your body as the scene plays out before you. Lauren could somehow see each individual reaction to her statement. Natasha looked to Steve, gauging his reaction; Clint and Bucky wore similar looks of repressed amusement, waiting for their chance to interject their own innuendo. Tony, for once, was both speechless and motionless. He hadn’t liked having another SHIELD handler thrust onto their team or into his tower, he had made that painfully obvious on several occasions. And in spite of her contributions, Lauren seemed just a bit too Coulson-like for his taste, another fact he had made clear. Bruce’s face was carefully impassive, but there was a sparkle of something in his brown eyes that said he was finding her loss of composure a bit comical himself.

In the seconds it took Lauren to process what was happening in the room, she realized that her reaction would solidify her place on the team, for good or bad. They would either see her as part of the insanity they called normal, or she would forever remain an ancillary, there but never quite belonging. She took another large gulp of coffee to fortify herself. The caffeine and adrenaline hit her body at the same time, helping her to understand that she had two basic choices. She could either own the statement and play this out to its conclusion, or she could crawl into that ridiculously oversized refrigerator where she was reaching for a yogurt and pray that someone would wake _her_ up 70 years later. Training and pure stubbornness made her decision for her. Without saying another word, she pulled her breakfast from the shelf, closed the door carefully, grabbed a spoon from the nearby drawer, and, balancing coffee cup in one hand and yogurt and spoon in the other, turned around to face the leader of the Avengers.

Impressions were one thing but looking from face to face as everyone remained silent was incredibly enlightening for Lauren. There was an atmosphere of expectation in the room, and she hoped that the blonde supersoldier was up for the game that was about to be played. Raising her mug to her lips again, Lauren quirked an eyebrow at Steve, silently challenging him in her best imitation of the redhead sitting nearby.

* * *

 

The others in the room may have thought the interaction they were witnessing was an anomaly. They would have been wrong. They lacked context, and sometimes context is everything. This was just one more unplanned session in what Lauren liked to think of as her patriotic duty to get the Star-Spangled man laid. (What? Have you seen him? It’s a crime for a man like that to be single… a crime against all other single people everywhere, I tell you!)

It started when Lauren first met him at a briefing weeks earlier. He’d stood in one of the open cubicle areas talking to a woman Lauren had worked with before. He seemed uncomfortable and awkward, ducking his head and shuffling his feet until someone interrupted the conversation. Later, in the elevator, Lauren brought it up.

“You know, for the record, if you had asked Stacey out, she wouldn’t have said no,” Lauren’s eyes never left the closed elevator doors.

“Excuse me?” Steve’s question didn’t sound like he was offended, but the tone wasn’t far off.

“I know it’s none of my business. Too early and not enough coffee.” She offered by way of apology, turning a small smile on him. “But Stacey’s a nice girl and, like you, she doesn’t date much.”

“You too?” The face he made was odd, so she lifted her eyebrows in question. “Nevermind. Nat, uh, Agent Romanov is always trying to set me up with somebody.”

“A man like you, Cap, shouldn’t need anyone to help him get a date.” Lauren looked him up and down purposefully, bringing a blush to his cheeks that quickly spread. His boyish awkwardness was legendary at SHIELD, but Lauren wanted to see it for herself.

“I never had too much luck talkin’ to dames…I mean women,” he muttered.

Lauren couldn’t help it. She laughed at him openly. It was so adorable that this golden-haired Adonis, a man who could literally walk out on the street and be covered in willing women, was so painfully reserved. Just as the elevator doors were opening into the lobby, she finally managed, “Not believing it, Cap, you’ve been talking to me just fine and last I checked, I’m a woman.”

He never had the chance to answer her as they moved onto the crowded New York street. They walked for a while in silence until he suggested they stop for a coffee before heading back to the Tower. It was there that Lauren saw proof positive that this man needed more than a date… he needed help. It started when the young woman behind the counter started flirting and looking up at him through her lashes as he gave his order. When she suggested that he stop back by to sample her “special blend” at the end of her shift, he stammered and ducked away. Then, when his order of black coffee was ready, he found the barista’s name and number written in small print around the top of the lid where it couldn’t be missed. He glanced up when he saw it and flushed bright crimson when she threw him a wink.

Lauren got her own drink, a double shot espresso with cream, but no invitations, winks, or numbers were on offer for her. Steve had taken a table on the sidewalk, apparently unwilling to head back right away.

“You know,” she began as she approached him, “I think someone needs to show you some mercy. If you didn’t do well with women 70 years ago, you don’t stand a chance now. Things have changed a lot and you don’t have the skills to survive. Feel free to practice on me anytime.” Lauren winked as she settled back into the metal chair.

“I don’t…you…I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am,” he stammered looking embarrassed again. Obviously he thought she was the one coming on to him now. She quickly put that to rest.

 “You know, Cap, you’re an attractive man and all that, but you’re not really my type. I like my men just a little more, I don’t know, less perfect. I need someone who’s going to give me a little trouble now and then.” She smiled at him. “Feel free to try out your best moves, I won’t think anything of it. It might be fun to see where the gossip goes, and you might just surprise everybody one day.”  

Of course, he was too much of an old-fashioned kind of guy to start anything that might lead to gossip. And then there had been that whole thing with the terrorist cell in Belgrade, so they hadn’t really seen one another much, but she had tried several times to draw him out. She never would have expected him to do this here, in the kitchen in front of most of the team. Apple pie and sunshine, indeed. 

* * *

 

The words still hung in the air, _“I can think of better ways to get all hot and sweaty in the mornin’, Cap.”_  

Lauren raised her mug to her lips again, wondering which would last longer, the coffee or the silence.

Finally, Steve raised his own brows in mock innocence and replied, “Oh, and what might those be, doll? Care to share?”

Someone in the room stifled a laugh, but Lauren didn’t break contact with the blue gaze that held hers to find out who it was. Oh, so he did want to play… well, challenge accepted.

“It’s classified, need to know only.” Lauren grinned a bit, waiting to see how he would respond before pushing the banter into places that would be too uncomfortable.

Steve leveled his gaze at her, pushing the conversation a bit further.  “My clearance level is pretty high. Didn’t realize there were any advanced training techniques that are need to know.”

Lauren raised the bar just a bit. “I could tell you, Steve, but unfortunately, it’s privileged information. And besides, I’m not sure a man of your advanced years needs that kind of excitement. Could cause some irreparable damage.”

Lauren watched out of the corner of her eye as Clint choked on the sip of coffee he had just taken. He recovered quickly and looked like he was going to explode into laughter. Natasha silenced him with a swat to the back of his head. His whispered “Ouch!” was the only sound he allowed to escape. Lauren returned her focus to Steve’s face.

“I’m in pretty good shape,” Steve smirked, “I’m sure I can take it.” Oh, sweet baby Jesus! Was he flexing? He was! Lauren mentally filed that under “Only Captain America could flex like that and not look like a total douchebag” and saved it for later. He might be able to get away with that at the right time. She would suggest it, maybe.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish there, grandpa.” Lauren decided to see how far he was willing to go with this conversation, taking a small, sauntering step forward. “And besides, I’m pretty sure that even discussing any of those possibilities might get me accused of defiling a national treasure; pretty sure Coulson wouldn’t forgive me for that.”

As the conversation had progressed, Lauren continued to look Steve directly in the eye tilting her head slightly and adding a hit of a suggestion to her eyes and lips as they both grew bolder and she slowly advanced one step at a time. There were slight choking sounds coming from various parts of the room, and over Steve’s shoulder, Bucky was looking even parts impressed and shocked.

Lauren decided to really test Steve’s control with a slow and suggestive wink. The response was almost immediate. Where skin had once only been slightly flushed with recent exercise there now bloomed a deep crimson from the edge of his t-shirt to his hairline. Putting him out of his misery, Lauren finally laughed, breaking the tension between them.

 “You know, Steve, you were doing pretty well there for a bit. You still need work though. That blush of yours is cute, but can’t have you looking like a ripening tomato every time a girl gets fresh.” Lauren winked at him broadly. “I’d consider it my patriotic duty to help you, how would you have said it back in the day… hmmm… ‘make time with the dames’. Let’s call it  ‘Operation Morning Exercise’.” Turning, Lauren topped off her coffee mug. “Just give me time for my coffee first, okay, I need to have my ‘A’ game for this kind of training.” Lauren patted Steve’s bicep as she walked past him, sipping from her cup. No one else in the room moved or spoke as she did.

As she rounded the corner, she heard Bucky break the silence, laughing, “What a dame!”

**Author's Note:**

> I offer no apologies... and you tell me if you wouldn't like to try any and all alternative methods of getting Cap hot and sweaty in the morning. I mean, PLEASE!


End file.
